Albus Potter and the Resurrection Stone
by soiheard
Summary: Albus Potter has just begun his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he is about to realise that his time there is going to just as memorable as his father's...
1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter One_**

- THE BLACK LAKE -

"James, don't!"

But it was too late; Albus gawped and Rose peered over his shoulder in silent horror. From across the corridor, James launched a wad of thick pink Droobles bubblegum from what appeared to be an enchanted slingshot, and howled with laughter as it whizzed straight through the bars of Albus' brand new owl cage with an unpleasant _squelch_.

Ignoring the triumphant shrieks of the magical slingshot (_'Bullseye! Ten points!')_, Albus raced back into his compartment and took the cage down from the luggage rack.

"I'm sorry, Blanche," he told his snowy owl, whom he had only known for a day or two. She flapped uncomfortably as he plucked the stringy bubblegum from her beak.

Albus glared over his shoulder. "It took me _ages_ to get all of it out of her feathers last time!"

A twinge of guilt appeared on James' otherwise jubilant face and he extricated himself from the crowd of cheering, back-slapping second years. "C'mon Al," he said, lowering his voice. "It was only a joke!"

Albus frowned darkly as he fed the bed a consolatory owl treat. "...tell that to Blanche."

Rose, who had been watching over the whole exchange with her arms crossed tightly across her chest, scoffed at her cousin's lack of backbone. "You can't just let him _get away with it!"_ she said, pointing across the corridor as James slid back into his compartment to another round of worship from his friends. "Look how smug he is!"

Albus looked up from the disgruntled owl just in time to see his older brother re-enact the assault with a broad grin on his face. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled. "Blanche is alright now, aren't you Blanche?"

The owl hooted and turned her back.

"_Fine_," Rose huffed, getting up from her seat. "If you won't do it, then I will."

Before Albus could even try to stop her, Rose had slid open the door and marched across to the second year compartment.

She cleared her throat loudly. "Where did you get that, James?"

The laughter in the compartment died down almost immediately. James glanced down at the slingshot in his hand as if he had never seen it before in his life. "What?" he asked innocently. "This?"

Rose narrowed her eyes and nodded tersely.

"OK, OK," James conceded with a sigh. "Uncle Ron gave it to me."

Rose's eyebrows shot up her forehead in mock-surprise. "Oh? Does my mum know my dad's been sneaking you _confiscated items_?"

The compartment had fallen into complete silence, and the eyes of everyone inside it darted nervously between James and Rose.

"Er... I don't suppose she does, no."

"Oh, well then!" Rose smiled sweetly. "I suppose I'll send her a quick note now – well, supposing poor Blanche's wings aren't too sticky to fly -"

James' eyes widened and his voice dropped to a near whisper. "Don't, Rose!" he pleaded, jumping from his seat and steering his younger cousin out into the corridor, away from the prying eyes of his classmates. "If you tell _your_ mum, she'll tell _my _mum and I won't get any pocket money for _weeks -"_

"I suppose you should apologise to Al, then." Rose pursed her lips and her dark brown eyes twinkled victoriously.

James' mouth twisted this way and that, as if he was finding something very difficult to chew. Finally, after a minute or so, he sighed. "_Fine. _But it's his fault for leaving her cage open."

Grinning, Rose bobbed cheerfully back over to her own compartment and opened the door to find Albus apologising profusely to Blanche, who was still perched with her fluffy white back to him.

"Al?" Rose said, beckoning James into the compartment. "I think James has something to say to you."

Albus watched his brother warily.

James took a deep breath. "I'm _sorry_, Al. It wasn't really fair of me to, er... gum up your owl." He turned impatiently to Rose. "Can I go now?"

"But James," Rose said wickedly, "Weren't you just saying that you would clean Blanche up yourself once we get to Hogwarts?"

James grit his teeth and nodded stiffly. "_Of course._"

Rose smiled and stepped out of the doorway to let him by. "I thought so. See you later!" she called after him as he stormed back across the corridor. Putting on her most sickly, sing-song voice, he added, "Love you, cous!"

Fortunately, the slamming of James' compartment door censored his reply.

"Well that was fun." Rose said, plopping back down on the seat opposite to Albus, whose eyes were still wide with amazement. "And by the way – for that, you owe me twelve chocolate frogs."

The look of wonder quickly disappeared from Albus' face.

The remainder of the journey proved uneventful, and by the time the Hogwarts Express chugged into Hogsmeade station all twelve boxes of Rose's Chocolate Frogs were littered across the compartment floor.

Albus tugged his robes over the top of his head, patting his hair down flat immediately afterwards. The offending tuft of hair stood straight back up. "Rose, do I look alright? James said if I look _really_ tidy, I'm more likely to get sorted into Gryffindor." His fingers fumbled anxiously with the knot of his tie.

Rose had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "You look _fine, _Al. Besides, James got sorted into Gryffindor and he's pretty scruffy."

Albus considered this for a moment and then shrugged.

"Shall we go, then?"

Packed tightly side-by-side, Albus and Rose were jostled out onto the platform by the bustling crowd. The cool wind nipped their cheeks immediately, and a light drizzle landed in silver beads on Rose's bushy red hair.

"You don't think there are any Thestrals around here, do you?" Albus whispered, peering over the crowd of bobbing heads. Almost as soon as he asked, the crowd began to thin as all but the first years were led off in another direction.

"I think they're probably over there," said Rose, rolling her eyes as Albus let out a sigh of relief that deflated his entire body. "Looks like you don't need to worry about being eaten this time round."

Before Rose could take full advantage of Albus' terror, the ground shook slightly and all of a sudden the sweeping rain stopped falling on the two of them.

Face scrunched up in confusion, Albus looked up to find a crooked pink polka-dot umbrella above their heads.

"Didn' want yeh getting' a cold fer yer first week at Hogwarts."

"_Hagrid_!"

Albus stood back, watching with great amusement as Rose tried her best to pull the Gamekeeper into a hug, her small arms only stretching the width of his belly and her head barely coming up to the first brass button on his heavy moleskin coat.

Hagrid chuckled deeply into his thick grey-flecked beard and patted Rose gently on the head.

"Yeh alrigh', Rose? I take it neither o' yeh get seasick – the Lake's lookin' pretty rough tonight and I don' want anyone barfin'."

"We're fine," Rose giggled. "Well, I don't know about Al, he's looking pretty green already."

Albus gawped indignantly. "No I'm not! I'll be fine!"

Hagrid looked over Rose's head at Albus and his weathered face softened, the corners of his beady eyes wrinkling.

"Yeh are lookin' a bit peaky, Al," Hagrid said, before clapping his hands together. The sound it made was like a gunshot; several nearby first years ducked. "But don' worry, yer father looked no differen' when he was in his firs' year. Let's get yeh both a boat, eh?"

As soon as Hagrid had turned away to drag up a boat, Rose chatting fervently as she skipped along after him, Albus smiled proudly to himself. The news that even his _father,_ Harry Potter, had looked nervous on his first day at Hogwarts had cheered him up considerably.

Feeling a lot more hopeful, Albus hopped into the boat after Rose, his stomach squirming ever so slightly as it rocked precariously underneath them. In the distance, he could hear Hagrid bellowing directions to the first years still loitering on the shore.

"_Go in tha' boat on the left – no, not tha' one -"_

The instructions were followed by a loud splash and several screams.

"_Oh bugger... I told yeh, the one on the left!"_

The water rippled as Hagrid ran by the help a very sour-looking boy clamber out of the water. Rose and Albus exchanged nervous glances until, no less than a minute later, Hagrid appeared by their boat, holding up a small blonde boy by his collar.

"Rose, look after this one, will yeh? He's jus' taken a bit o' a plunge, so he's a bit shaken... yeh know..."

The boat trembled as Hagrid dropped the boy quite unceremoniously onto the seat opposite Albus.

"Cheers, Rosie." And with that gruff thank-you, Hagrid hopped back into his own boat with a loud _creak _that made a lot of the first years draw breath.

Albus stared at the boy opposite, not quite sure what to say. His robes were sodden and his shoes squelched every time he moved.

Rose cleared her throat politely. "Are you alright? You look a bit... wet."

"I _am_ a bit wet," the boy snapped, one shivering hand slicking his blonde hair back into place. He glanced between the two of them, frowning. "How come you two know the _giant?_"

Rose's face hardened. "His name's _Hagrid, _not _the giant_."

Albus was quick to interrupt, very wary that Rose was one snarky comment away from tipping the boy back into the water. "He's a family friend."

The boy, whose gaze had been fixed challengingly on Rose, looked curiously across at Albus. "Really? _My_ family's friends are a lot less... hairy." he said, his lip curling.

Rose's next question was barely audible over the grinding of her teeth. "And which family would that be?"

The boy puffed out his chest with pride. "_Malfoy, _of course."

Albus' mouth fell open. Rose, on the other hand, did not seem surprised in the slightest, and continued to glare at the boy with narrowed eyes.

"Surprise, surprise -"

Whatever Rose was about to say was drowned out by an almighty _slosh_ as every one of the boats began to drift away from the shore together and draw ever closer to Hogwarts castle.

For a moment, the three eleven-year-olds forgot to glare at each other as they watched the dim moon disappear behind the Astronomy Tower, the warm amber glow of the Great Hall windows replacing the eerie moonlight.

"This is it then?" Albus breathed.

And, for perhaps the first and only time, Rose and Scorpius spoke in complete agreement.

"This is it."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I'm re-posting this fanfic and making a proper go of it, in light of the whole movie series ending. This is just my interpretation of what would happen next. I'm trying to stick quite close to J.K's style without copying it completely.

Leave a review to let me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two_**

- THE SORTING HAT -

The wide eyes of the three eleven-year-olds barely moved from the castle as their boat juddered through the shallows to a halt; by the time it did so, they were in such a state of distraction that it required a shoulder-breaking tap on the shoulder from Hagrid to prompt them to disembark.

"Not dozin' off already, are yeh?" he asked, smiling through his bushy beard at all but the scowling Scorpius. "Yeh've got a whole feast to sit through!"

A buzz of conversation followed, and the cluster of first years seemed to let out a collective shiver of anticipation. The Sorting Ceremony was so close now that they could almost feel the moth-eaten brim of the Sorting Hat on the crowns of their heads; even Albus could not resist reaching up and self-consciously touching the very same spot on which the hat would soon be resting.

"My mum told me that we have to _do a spell_ in front of everyone to prove ourselves -" said a boy with mousy brown hair not far away, glancing anxiously between his classmates.

"A spell?" A short blonde girl behind Albus squeaked. "I thought it was a written exam!"

Albus' mouth had only just opened to correct them when Scorpius spoke over him.

"You're both wrong, _actually_," he interrupted, advancing into the centre of the throng, "Judging by that, I wouldn't be surprised if you both end up in _Hufflepuff_."

Some of the more unpleasant first years sniggered, and both the blonde girl and the mousy-haired boy flushed bright red. The attention seemed to make Scorpius stand several inches taller.

Albus watched on in a sort of awe, drawing some comfort from the fact that Scorpius' robes were still sodden at the seams. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red hair whip past and groaned under his breath.

Before he knew it, Rose had muscled her way through the tight-knit crowd and was clearing her throat with terrifying authority.

"_Actually_, Hufflepuffs are meant to be fair and kind-hearted, which is more than I can say for him." Rose nodded in Scorpius' direction with such ferocity that her hair blazed through the air. "We all get sorted by the Sorting Hat, so you don't have to worry about any tests or spells. All we have to do is sit still."

The relieved laughter that followed lightened the stifling atmosphere, and with that, the first years resumed their march up to the Great Hall.

*****

The group stopped quite unceremoniously at the foot of the marble staircase. Albus looked over both shoulders to check if James had covertly cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx on him, as it had become impossible to stand still; his nervous fidgeting, combined with his new pallor, led to one girl asking him if he was feeling alright.

Biting back his nerves (and the vomit that seemed to accompany them), Albus made up a feeble excuse that it was just some leftover seasickness, and elbowed Rose in the ribs when she snorted incredulously.

"What's going on?" whispered somebody behind them. "Why have we stopped?"

Albus peered over the head of his neighbour, past the tall stone statue of Dilys Derwent blocking their view, and frowned. A towering woman with hair so white it almost seemed silver in the torchlight was standing in front of the enormous oaken doors.

The severe knot in her hair drew back her features so far that her high cheekbones jutted out, and her lips were so firmly pursed it looked as if there was an Acid Pop stuck permanently to her tongue.

"Quiet!" She cried, her voice shrill yet somehow booming in the cavernous foyer. "If you would all gather around – and make it quick, we're already behind schedule!"

A thin hazelnut wand slid from her sleeve into her hand, and she ignited the remaining unlit torches with a theatrical wave. "My name is Professor Whitelock. Now, I know Hogwarts is very _impressive_, but do try not to stand around _gawping_. It's very unbecoming."

She stared very pointedly at a girl in the front row, who whimpered with mortification. Albus suddenly felt very relieved that he was one of the last in the queue, and safe from her shrewd gaze.

"Al!" Rose whispered, her voice hoarse from the effort of trying not to be overheard. "That's the teacher Aunt Fleur was telling us about! Apparently she used to teach Etiquette at Beauxbatons!"

Albus winced sympathetically as a boy in front of him was scolded for 'poor presentation' ,and had his tie rather viciously straightened by the Professor's Dressing Charm. He gulped and glanced at Rose. "I'd never have guessed."

"Now that you're all presentable, we'll prepare to enter the Great Hall -" Professor Whitelock paused. She seemed most displeased by the gasps and shudders of apprehension her announcement brought about. "Remember, everybody – backs straight, and chins up. We don't want any students here with poor posture – what on _earth_ is that?"

The entire foyer dropped into silence, but for the steady _drip-drop_ of what sounded like a leak.

"What is it?" the Professor repeated. Slowly but surely, the crowd divided until the source was revealed. Albus had to stop himself from laughing; Rose, on the other hand giggled guiltily into her palm.

Scorpius was standing alone in the middle of the staircase, lake water from his drenched robes pooling around his feet. His pinched face had gone deathly pale.

"Most students elect to _sail_ across the Black Lake on their first night here, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Whitelock said, her head shaking slowly from side to side. Scorpius flinched at every sharp syllable. "I hadn't realised that _you_ had decided to swim."

The Professor made a majestic movement with her wand, and a wave of warm wind swept down the staircase and whistled through the castle's many nooks and crannies. Scorpius patted his robes down to find them completely dry, and begrudgingly mumbled a 'thank you.'

"That's quite alright, Mr Malfoy," the Professor said clearly, turning on the heel of her hobnailed boots and pointing her wand at the oaken doors. A lock scraped open, and the hinges began to creak.

"Onwards!"

*****

The Great Hall was larger then Albus ever could have imagined. The high ceilings and sturdy stone walls now had the look of a great, stone patchwork – having recently been rebuilt – and a darkening navy blue sky rumbled overhead where beams and brickwork should have been. Albus realised with a gasp of astonishment that it was the hundreds of hovering candles which gave the Great Hall's stained-glass windows their warm, amber glow; in fact, he was so thoroughly absorbed in his observations that he nearly ploughed straight into the back of the girl in front.

The first years continued to trot to the front of the Hall, and Albus made sure to drop his head when passing the Gryffindor table. Somewhere amongst the cluster of red-and-gold-crested students he was certain he heard "Oi Al! Watch where you're going!", and looked up just in time to see his brother revelling in the uproarious laughter of his classmates.

"Just ignore him!" said Rose, tugging insistently on Albus' sleeve. Sighing miserably, Albus did just that, and trailed closely behind his cousin.

"Look, there's Victoire!"

Their cousin was sitting at the very edge of the Ravenclaw table, her fiery red hair floating ethereally around her and a glittering gold badge pinned to her chest. Her perfect composure earned her a nod of approval from Professor Whitelock, as well as the admiration of seemingly every male in the surrounding area; Albus chuckled as a Ravenclaw boy sitting not far away from her almost fell off his seat from staring.

"Good luck, you two!" Victoire whispered, squeezing Rose's hand as she passed by. Rose grinned and practically skipped the remaining distance to the front of the Hall.

Albus glanced up at the Professor's table as they neared it. The Headmaster's chair was filled by a short, round man who seemed almost wedged between the chair's armrests. Despite his clear discomfort, he clapped his hands together with excitement and the corners of his small eyes wrinkled into a jovial smile. Alongside him sat Professor Longbottom, although the title seemed absurd to Albus who had only ever known him as _Neville, _and Albus somehow managed to catch his eye. Grinning broadly, the man lifted up slightly from his seat and waved enthusiastically, much to the horror of the stony-faced Professor sitting two seats away.

The noise in the hall ebbed away just as the Sorting Hat lifted from its stool by Professor Whitelock. It looked more worn and tattered than any of its representations in his Aunt Hermione's old copy of _Hogwarts: A History_; not only was it ripped, but large patches were discoloured and singed, as if it had been set on fire at some point in its long life...

All eyes in the Hall were fixed upon the Hat, and it seemed to luxuriate in the suspense. After a solid minute of staring, by which point every First Year heart in the Hall was hammering audibly, its cloth mouth opened and it began to bellow its song.

"_It has been a while my friends!_

_Over a thousand years, in fact,_

_since this dear old school began_

_and yet I am still intact._

_I am still here to tell the crowds_

_exactly where they all belong;_

_Old enough to make the wisest choice,_

_Young enough to do it with song!_

_Your houses here will shape you_

_from the tender age of eleven_

_They'll determine how you change and grow_

_from years one to seven._

_'So what will it be?' you wonder,_

_(they don't hear you, but I do...)_

_A world of possibility awaits,_

_alas your options are but few._

_Let's say you're a Gryffindor!_

_You'd certainly be brave,_

_and – despite your chivalry – find_

_it rather difficult to behave..._

_Or you could be Ravenclaw,_

_a smidgeon sharper than the rest,_

_Driven by that rather curious need_

_to always be the best._

_Of course Hufflepuff's an option too,_

_if you possess the fairest mind._

_A purer heart than a true Hufflepuff_

_never will you find._

_And finally, there's Slytherin -_

_a less slippery bunch, these days -_

_But bear in mind as you roam the halls;_

_Snakes rarely change their ways..._

_Supposedly these differences are long-buried,_

_and I apologise for this revival;_

_it's just that I can't help but think,_

_What is a hero without his rival?"_

A tumult of applause followed, with some older students erupting from the seats to give it a standing ovation; but the Hat's final couplet seemed to hang in the air, and students of Gryffindor and Slytherin momentarily shot challenging glances at one another.

Professor Whitelock cleared her throat and unravelled a scroll of parchment from thin air.

"_Ackerley, Abigail_!"

Albus watched with bated breath as Abigail, the blonde haired girl who had been so convinced the Sorting would involve a written exam, took her place on the stool. The Hat had barely darkened the top of her head when it exclaimed, "Ravenclaw!"

Abigail was greeted by applause as she scurried across to her new house, settling into place between Victoire and her third-year admirer.

And so it continued; Braithwaite, Elladora was sorted into Slytherin (Albus' heart twinged with terror at the mere sound of the word), while Fenwick, Andrew took his place in Hufflepuff. For some reason, as Albus waited for his name to be called, the alphabet seemed significantly shorter than he remembered it; it came as a great surprise when the Hat, with an unmistakeable tone of curiousity, called for '_Potter, Albus'. _

Whatever whispering there had been in the Great Hall was snuffed out, leaving no noise but the patter of his own footsteps as he approached the stool and sat down. He decided to squeeze his eyes tightly shut rather than the meet the collective gaze of every Hogwarts student in the Hall, and was grateful when the brim of the Hat obscured his vision completely.

The Hat's voice seemed now to come from its lining, not from its brim; its words were a whisper but at the same time, a shout.

"Can they hear you?" Albus mouthed.

"And why on earth would that matter?"

Albus thought about answering for a moment or two, but instead let his mouth fall shut.

"Now, let's see..." muttered the Hat, swaying slightly. "I think I know the perfect house for you..."

Albus clung onto the underside of the stool with a white-knuckle grip. This was it – he could feel the brim of the hat opening above his head to deliver its verdict...

The words burst from his mouth before he could stop them. "My dad said you'd take my choice into account if I didn't want to be Slytherin!" he blurted, one hand clapping over his mouth. "I didn't mean to interrupt, it's just -"

"There was no _need_ to interrupt," the Hat replied, this time for the whole Hall to hear. Albus bit his lip and braced himself. "There really is no doubt about this one..."

His heart pounded once. Twice.

"_Gryffindor!_"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I'm glad the few of you who reviewed/favourited/alerted the last chapter enjoyed it! This chapter has taken so long not only because I've had to come up with a whole new cast of Professors and decide on a new Headmaster, but because I've been agonising over the Albus Slytherin/Gryffindor debate. I'm happy with where I've put him, though. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter Three_**

_- _HORTON LIMERICK -

While an unnatural hush had settled over the Great Hall during Albus' sorting, the same could not be said of Rose's. The name Weasley, accompanied by the head of bright red hair, seemed to predetermine the Sorting Hat's decision; those sitting at the Gryffindor table, not to mention Professor Longbottom himself, already had their hands together to applaud when it was declared that she would join her cousin in scarlet and gold.

Albus gave a sigh of relief when Rose plopped down next to him. It awed him slightly that she had not even broken a sweat; in fact, she was as calm and collected as ever. Albus, on the other hand, was still panting as though he had just completed a marathon, when really it was the simple act of sitting on a stool with a hat on his head that had left him so red-faced and wide-eyed.

"I thought I was going to be in Ravenclaw there for a minute," Rose explained to the table, unfazed and grinning, "but the Sorting Hat said that one Weasley is enough for any house, and Ravenclaw already has Victoire…"

James clambered over his second year classmates, knocking over goblets and plates as he did so, and squeezed his way in between Albus and Rose. "See, Al?" he said innocently, "I always told you you'd end up in Gryffindor!"

Albus gawped indignantly. "_You_ said I'd be in Slyth -"

"- just be glad you're not sharing a dormitory with Scorpius Malfoy," Rose interrupted, casting a venomous glance over at the Slytherin table. Scorpius was sitting amongst the rest of the first years, talking ardently about something or other – Albus thought he could make out the words 'pure' and 'blood'. Rose made a '_yuck_' noise.

"_Scorpius_?" asked James, his eyes narrowing. "You don't mean to say you two have been _speaking_ to him?"

Albus shook his head vigorously, and Rose crossed her arms. "Only to tell him how much of a _prat_ he is."

"Good on you, Rosie." James said with clear approval, leaping to his feet. "I'm off to get some treacle tart, but I'll see you in the common room!"

James had only taken a couple of steps when he stopped suddenly, as if he had forgotten something. He returned seconds later with a grave expression. He lowered his voice and rested a hand on Albus' shoulder. "Just to warn you, Al... there's been a few rumours going around that the fifth years have put Fanged Frisbees under all the first years' pillows, so try and be careful."

Albus' heart sank.

"Oh yeah, and I forgot – apparently there's an angry Chimaera roaming around the third floor, too. Bye, Al!" And with that, James jogged happily away to his seat.

So much colour had drained from Albus' face that he could quite easily pass for one of the House Ghosts. Rose excused herself from the conversation she was having with another of the first year Gryffindors, Edie Cairns, who had been excitedly telling her all about her father's restoration of an antique Comet 360.

"He's only joking, you know, Al." She told him, dismayed by her cousin's apparent inability to take a joke. "Don't panic."

"I _know_ he was only joking about the Fanged Frisbees," Albus snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm more worried about how a _Chimaera_found its way into the castle..."

When the discussion had died down and the protesting Sorting Hat had been carried from the Great Hall ('_Do I not get to take a bow, at least?)_, an impossibly loud cough came from the Professor's table. Albus craned around his neighbour to find out who was responsible, only to find the Headmaster waiting to begin his speech.

He was only visible behind his lectern from the tip of his magenta hat to the bottom of his wobbling chin, and his short arms were stretched out so widely to either side it appeared he was trying to embrace the entire Hall.

"Goodness, I hate to interrupt!" he said apologetically, shaking his head so rapidly his hat threatened to fall off. "I especially hate to interrupt some of the scintillating conversation I've found myself eavesdropping on. For instance, I whole-heartedly agree with you, Ms. Hobson, that Gillian really does need to stop snogging Robert Jenkins in the third floor broom cupboard, and make him take her out on a real date! Might I suggest Madam Puddifoots in Hogsmeade?"

There was nothing mocking about the Headmaster's tone; he was perfectly genuine, although he still allowed himself a guilty chuckle as the three sixth years in question shrank in their seats with embarrassment.

"Onto more official matters! I must apologise for our beloved Sorting Hat's rather _stirring _song this year, and I hope you all recognise the difference between healthy competition and rivalry – although I must admit, last year's Quidditch final between Slytherin and Hufflepuff was so tense that even I was sorely tempted to hex a Hufflepuff or two afterwards. That _was_ a very nasty tackle, Thompson, and I hope you've apologised profusely to Harriet for breaking her arm in sixteen places."

Albus leaned across to Rose and whispered in her ear. "That's Professor Limerick, isn't it?" he asked. He glanced up to see the Headmaster reciting his 'favourite joke' about the Hippogriff and the hag to the Hall and frowned. "Granddad Arthur told me they were in the same year when they were at Hogwarts - Granddad Arthur says he's absolutely _hopeless._"

Rose sniffed. "Well I like him! Grandma Molly said that he has a heart of gold. In fact, I think she might have _fancied _him when she was our age – before Grandad Arthur came along, of course."

Albus gasped. "You mean _Grandma Molly_ and Professor Limerick used to _snog_?"

"Al, keep your voice down!"

"…and lastly, because Professor Whitelock will pester me for weeks if I forget… _please_ do try to steer clear of the Forbidden Forest. I wouldn't be very happy at all if at breakfast I found the front-page story of the Daily Prophet was in regards to one of our first year students being mauled by a tetchy unicorn."

There was a smattering of laughter amongst the older students while the first years swapped nervous glances with one another, shortly followed by whispers of reassurance.

Professor Limerick beamed and, as he clapped his hands together finally, food sprang out of plates, platters, trays and bowls the length of the Great Hall. Albus licked his lips thirstily as pumpkin juice trickled into his goblet; alongside him Rose, having been told to appreciate the hard work of the House Elves by her mother, whispered 'thank you!' into her plate in the hope that the message would slip through to the Kitchens below.

The feast came to an end, by which point most of the First Year Gryffindors were so full of dessert that they could barely fathom the journey up to Gryffindor tower. Albus groaned as he heaved himself onto the umpteenth staircase, particularly regretting that last slice of Pumpkin pasty; even Rose had developed a greenish hue.

"I didn't want any of it going to waste!" she explained, clutching her stomach. "The House Elves must've worked for hours on all of that food!"

Albus grinned. He was certain that if Rose continued with that mentality, she would be swapping dieting tips with the Fat Lady by Christmas.

Their journey was interrupted by the disappearance of a boy named Quentin. When they eventually found him cowering in an alcove on the sixth floor, he was covered head-to-toe in beetle eyes, claiming that a little blue man calling himself 'Professor Peeves' had promised to show him a shortcut to the common room.

"I can assure you," said one of the Prefects, dusting dunk off the shoulders of Quentin's robes, "Peeves is most definitely _not_ a Professor."

When they eventually arrived at the portrait, Albus was so sleepy that his eyelids had begun to droop. The only thing that kept him awake was the shrill tones of the haughty Fat Lady as she demanded the password from a rather intimidated-looking Prefect.

"_Hinkypunk_," said the Prefect clearly, glancing mindfully over his shoulder. "Make sure you remember that, everyone – if you forget, _she'll_ leave you sleeping in the corridor."

The Fat Lady _hmph_'d and reluctantly swung open.

The common room was decorated in the same scarlet and gold colours Albus now had embroidered on the chest of his robes. Huge armchairs were positioned enticingly in front of the roaring fire, and large round wooden tables were scattered here and there. Albus was not entirely surprised to see his older brother and his friends gathered round one of the tables, levitating a stall into place with their wands.

"Get your Puking Pastilles here, everyone! Ten percent discount –"

"Potter, what _are _you doing?" The same Prefect who had opened the portrait Vanished James' crudely-decorated 'Wizarding Wheezes' banner with a flick of his wand.

James sighed. It was clear that this was not the first time he had had to explain himself to a Prefect. "I'm setting up a stall! My Uncle George said I could sell on a few things, you know – make a bit of pocket money for myself!"

"And has your Uncle George told Professor Limerick that he's letting his nephew smuggle _illness-inducing confectionary_ into the castle?"

James' mouth hung open for a while. "Well… _no_, not exactly…"

"Well I'm afraid you can't stand here selling first years Noseblood Nougat, then."

Albus shook his head as James huffed and lugged away his supplies, which consisted of several suitcases full of joke items. He vaguely remembered their mother demanding to know what was inside James' multiple trunks before they had arrived at King's Cross; if he remembered rightly, James had replied that it was simply extra underwear.

"Typical," said Rose under her breath, edging away with the rest of the girls as they were led up to the Girl's dormitory. "I'll see you in the morning, Al! Apparently we have History of Magic first!"

The rest of the first years did not share Rose's obvious enthusiasm, and several of the boys groaned and made yawning noises as they too snaked up the spiral staircase to the Boy's dormitory. There were only a few of them; Quentin, who still had several beetle eyes sticking out of his smartly-parted hair, a couple of boys who were chatting loudly about the latest Chudley Cannons match, and a tall boy with a nest-like mess of hair. Albus sidled with them into the dormitory and claimed the bed nearest the mullioned window.

The two chatting boys were currently wrestling to decide the winner of the next bed along, and it was only by accidentally poking the other in the eye with his wand that one managed to disentangle himself, and leap triumphantly onto the springy mattress.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to put your eye out."

His defeated opponent grumbled something under his breath and shuffled across to the only remaining with one hand over his eye.

"You're Harry Potter's son, aren't you?"

Albus didn't know quite how to answer. James had told him that on his first night at Hogwarts, a Hufflepuff boy had asked for his autograph.

"Oh, er… yeah. I am." Albus answered carefully. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the boy did not whip out a photograph and a quill from his pocket and beg him to sign it, instead nodding with a sort of pride.

"He was friends with my dad, you see. My dad fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and everything – told me he took out _seven_ Death Eaters at once!" the boy elaborated, clearly quite smug. He offered a hand. "I'm Paddy. Paddy Finnigan."

Albus took his hand, and Paddy shook it so energetically that his arm began to ache. He had to stop himself from wincing.

"I'm Albus."

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I'm glad you're all enjoying this, and I hope you're not too furious at me for putting Rose/Scorpius/Albus in the Houses I did... as always, read and review and let me what you think. Reviews make my day.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

- MONDAY MORNING -

Albus slept soundly that night, despite it becoming clear that Paddy Finnigan talked just as much – and just as loudly – in his sleep as he did in consciousness. In the morning, Paddy had hopped out of bed and wished the entire dormitory a good morning, obviously quite unaware that he had broadcasted a nonsensical conversation with Headmaster Limerick about bowtruckles and carrot cake in his sleep.

Nobody had the heart to inform the bright-eyed Paddy of this, and so they shuffled down to the Great Hall for breakfast in stoic silence.

Rose waved him over to the Gryffindor table as soon as he crossed the threshold, and he dutifully hurried over. His cousin was beaming, and seemed to be the centre of attention amongst the Gryffindor girls.

"Albus," she said officially, taking it upon herself to introduce him, "this is Edie. Edie, this is Albus."

Edie grinned. She was a short boyish girl with a crop of messy, light brown hair and round, puffy cheeks – Albus rather nastily thought she looked like a squirrel. "Harry Potter's son, ey?"

He felt his face heat up. Rose was giggling into her hand.

"Yes, I suppose I am." Albus couldn't help but wonder just how many times he would have to confirm that he was, in fact, a member of the Potter family. He would have to owl his mother requesting she send over his birth certificate.

"Well that's pretty exciting!" said Edie, bouncing on her seat. The similarities with a squirrel became all the more remarkable. "Have you got a scar too?"

To Albus' surprise, Edie tossed aside her half-eaten croissant and parted the mess of hair on his forehead. Her brow furrowed and she deflated slightly when she came to the conclusion that his forehead was not much more special than her own.

"No, I don't." he answered, irritably shaking his hair back into place. He wasn't sure if he liked this Edie girl, and glanced quizzically at Rose.

"No, he doesn't..." Rose repeated. There was something wicked in her tone of voice, and Edie beamed in anticipation. "...but when he was six he tried to draw it on with one of those Muggle permanent markers -"

Albus almost spat out a mouthful of cereal. "I didn't!" he said fervently, glancing nervously around him to see if anyone had overheard.

"You did! It took our mums _two hours_ to Scourgify it off!"

Edie threw back her head in laughter and Albus' face went from a light pink to a deep red. He jabbed angrily at his cornflakes with his spoon and chewed furiously, only stopping when a suddenly sympathetic Edie clapped him on the back.

"Well I think your forehead looks fine without the scar, anyway, and I bet you have loads of even more embarrassing stories about what Rose got up to when she was six."

Albus watched with delight as Rose tactically changed the conversation away from her own childhood incidents, and decided just this once to let her off. Edie winked at him over her shoulder.

There was a loud squawk, followed by a cacophony of hoots and screeches and everything in between. Owls poured in through the Great Hall window, and the enchanted ceiling momentarily disappeared beneath a wave of flapping wings and falling letters – Blanche, however, chose to deliver her load personally, and landed elegantly on the brim of Albus' breakfast bowl.

He noticed with a sigh that there was still an unmistakeable pink Droobles stain on her snowy white feathers, and plucked his letter from her beak.

_Albus,_

_Sorry if this doesn't arrive in time for breakfast. Your mother's been up since five o'clock pulling bubblegum out of Blanche's feathers. We had a feeling James might be behind it, so we've sent him a certain something in the post. I'd invest in some earplugs, if I were you._

_Congratulations on Gryffindor! I'm sorry you didn't get to tell us first, but Neville (sorry, Professor Longbottom) was so excited that he owled us straight away. I'm proud of you, Al, and I hope the Sorting Hat wasn't too moody. I'm absolutely certain he made the right decision. Tell Rose congratulations from us, too - your Uncle Ron's been wearing his Gryffindor scarf ever since he found out last night._

_I'll make this letter a short one, because I'm sure you'll be humiliated if you have to sit and read through hundreds of pages from your old mum and dad. Enjoy your first day!_

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad x _

Albus was more heartened by their letter than he let on, and slipped it quietly into the breast pocket of his robes. He glanced across at Rose, who had done exactly the same thing – a rare smile of silent understanding passed between them before they resumed their conversation with the animated Edie, who was busy punching the air and chanting a Quidditch song.

"My dad says the Holyhead Harpies are back at the top of the league!" she exclaimed, grinning unabashedly as students on all four house tables turned their heads to look at her. Her voice dropped to a mumble as she told Albus and Rose, "He said congratulations on getting into Gryffindor, too, of course. But I think he's more happy about the Harpies to be honest."

A bell sounded, which seemed to come from nowhere in particular and yet rang out in every nook and cranny of the castle. The first years waited until Professor Whitelock had swept past them and handed them their individual timetables until they collected their satchels and left the Great Hall.

Albus noticed, just as he and Rose turned the corner out of the hall, that James had jumped from his seat at the table and was stamping madly on a steaming scarlet letter in an effort to hush its angry shrieking.

Their first lesson of the day was History of Magic with the Slytherins. Albus made sure to avoid Scorpius' gaze as he took a seat near the front of the classroom; as he flicked to page eighty-seven of Hogwarts: A History, he could feel the boy's glare boring into the back of his head.

There seemed to some sort of dispute at the front of the classroom. Professor Crawley, a ratty-looking wizard wearing tweed robes that appeared to be several sizes too big, was in the middle of a hushed argument with one of the castle's resident ghosts.

The entire class fell into an intrigued silence, as if they had all made a silent pact to eavesdrop.

"- Binns, I'm perfectly qualified to teach the students here, as I tell you _every single year_!" Professor Crawley snapped, gesticulating so wildly that his hands passed several times through Binns' translucent chest.

"I'd been teaching this curriculum for years before you usurped my position, Cassian." Binns droned. "On what grounds are you qualified, may I ask?"

"Well, I'm not _dead_, for a start! Now get out! Go on! Don't make me call Peeves!" Professor Crawley was unsuccessfully trying to usher Binns out of the classroom door. With a sigh that seemed to send a chilling breeze through the entire classroom, Binns drifted away through the blackboard.

Professor Crawley shook his fist in frustration. It took him several seconds to release there was a classroom full of attentive first years behind him.

"Oh – good morning, first years." He straightened himself up and buttoned up the collar of his robes, but it made little difference – the garment still hung limply off his shoulders. "I trust you all have your copies of Hogwarts: A History?"

Albus nodded, along with the rest of the class; Scorpius arrogantly waved his brand-new copy in the air.

Professor Crawley looked, for some reason, disappointed. "That's a shame," he said quietly, writing out 'History of Magic' with a distinct air of boredom. "I was hoping we'd be able to go straight onto the more _interesting _topics. But no matter. Hogwarts: A History it is."

He patted a pile of black leather-bound volumes stacked up on his desk and their pages rustled ominously, as if they were in some way alive. Rose curiously craned her neck to see the book's title, but Professor Crawley noticed, and slammed his hand down to cover the front page. Rose jumped back in shock.

"Eager, are we, Miss Weasley?" he asked. There was an almost unnerving softness to his voice that made the hairs on Albus' neck stand on end.

"Not exactly, sir," said Rose, propping her chin up on her hands innocently. "I was just wondering what you meant by 'more interesting topics'. That's all."

Professor Crawley smiled but did not answer.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I've been away for a couple of weeks on holiday, so for those of you who are regular readers I apologise! This is only half of what I had planned for this chapter, I just wanted to get something out to fill the gap. I hope I'm still doing alright, and as always leave a review to let me know if I am!


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